


Dark Spirit Light Spirit

by AbbeyWan



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alchemy of Thiefshipping, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, accidentally hurt/comfort, extremely obvious shaymalan twist if you read the tags or the collection theme at all, jungian fixes to canon i don't like, minor trashshipping that becomes thief anyways, one sex scene in the last chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 09:53:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16553555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbbeyWan/pseuds/AbbeyWan
Summary: Isis Ishtar asks Malik to investigate an old tombkeeper necklace. The goddess Isis uses it as an excuse to send him a magic teacher spirit. His new instructor might be a little more than he seems.





	1. a phonecall

It was becoming a daily ritual.

Each evening Malik would pause, clean, nude, and damp after a shower, over the thick binder sitting on the corner of his desk.

Overstuffed with photocopies of papyrus scrolls salvaged from their childhood home, the ‘spellbook’ had been a gift from Isis. He didn’t want it, wouldn’t open it, but he also couldn’t throw it away. She had promised that it would help him, and her intuition was never to be taken lightly.

He ran his fingers across the cover, very nearly opened it, and then shook his head and turned his back on it to get ready for bed.

It was clear by now that sleep would never come easy to him, darkness and his past crowding in from all sides to whisper threats. To compensate, Malik made his evenings as routine and relaxing as possible. Quiet meditative music filtered out of a speaker and a diffuser misted lavender oil into the air. He was strict about his nightly yoga routine, and refused to touch his phone once it was set to charge on his desk.

Malik Ishtar had once commanded an entire cult of devoted or weak-minded followers. Between the magic of his words and his millennium item, he had carried an incredible amount of power in his teen years. When he had willingly surrendered that power in order to slay his own demons, he had not expected the vast emptiness it would leave in its wake.

With the assets he had collected over the years Malik wanted for nothing. He helped Isis with conservation work at the museum when she needed it, and he ran errands for Rishid whenever he was struggling with a difficult foster case. Sometimes he would take on a few courses online to sate his own curiosity, but he had no interest so deep that it would lead to seeking a full degree. He had never put much consideration into what his life would look like after the Pharaoh had passed on, and had let it become a blur of meaningless days without purpose.

His phone buzzed with an incoming call as he went through his asanas.

He ignored it and let it go to voicemail. His siblings knew his evening routine after all, and nobody else ever called him.

It started buzzing a second time.

Again, he ignored it. One of Isis’ interns might have seen his number listed with other consultants and mistakenly assumed he would be available.

The third time it started up he cracked an eye open and watched it inch along the surface of his desk. His siblings knew not to call _unless there was an emergency_. He cut his routine short and checked the ID – Isis. With a quick stab of repressed worry, he accepted the call.

“Ah, there you are, brother.” Her tone was professional, suggesting museum business.

“Isis, it’s nearly ten, what’s wrong?”

She paused, perhaps confirming the time. “Oh! I didn’t realize it was so late, I should have called you in the morning. Can-“

He sighed, evening routine already disrupted anyways. “Yes, just tell me now.”

“We uncovered something interesting in an old tombkeeper cavern, and I think it has magic in it. I’m not sure I’m comfortable keeping it in the museum. Have you looked through the photocopies I gave you yet? I’d like you to try to send it away, like the Millennium Items.”

Malik refused to feel guilty as he glanced at the unopened binder. “If you want me to do magic, Isis, send me a master magician.”

He could practically hear her headache across the phone line. “Malik, you’re the only other person on earth who can read those documents and has also used a magical artifact. I don’t have the same kind of free time to devote to studying that you do right now. Please take this seriously. I know our father was cruel when he tried to teach you when you were younger, but this is different.”

“I’ll consider it. I can pick up the artifact in the morning.” His sister had a great deal of power over him now that he was mature enough to listen to her. She was intelligent and gave out fantastic advice. It made it difficult not to do the favors she requested.

Once he ended the call, Malik returned to his yoga mat. It would push his sleep schedule back a little, but he needed to start over again. There was no use trying to go to sleep at the regular time if his mind was too restless to sleep.

This time he was able to work his way through his meditations uninterrupted. Deeply relaxed in Savasana, he thought for a moment he had simply hallucinated the voice.

_Naked meditation? Didn’t expect to walk in on such a nice view. You do this often?_

His mind caught up to the reality of it a moment later, and he shot up to look around the room. It was empty, and he was about to get up to check the closet when a bright warmth settled over his shoulders.

_Isis sent me to be your master._

The warm energy of whatever- whoever - produced the voice kept his muscles loose and prevented him from darting away in fear. “My sister?”

_Of course not, stupid. Isis the Mother. You invoked her and requested a master in front of one of her artifacts._

Malik shook his head. “I made a joke to my sister over the phone. She’s the one with the artifact.”

The warmth laughed, and Malik swore he felt breath in his hair. _Mother Isis called my soul out of the darkness years ago for just this moment, it doesn’t really matter whether you knew you did it or not._

Malik couldn’t help leaning back, as though leaning into the embrace of somebody holding him from behind. He felt nothing and saw nothing, and would have thought it was foolish if not for the very real quality to the warmth and sound coiling around him. “Who are you, anyways?”

_I’m not._

It didn’t seem bothered by the fact that it apparently wasn’t anything but a conscience pulled from darkness.

Malik closed his eyes and let the thing trail gentle brushes of air over the features of his face. There wasn’t much he could have done to stop it, and he was still caught in the calm that had prevented him from startling at its arrival.

“If I go get the artifact from Isis- my sister, I mean- in the morning will you help me out?”

_If you get the artifact we can have all sorts of fun together._

It laughed again, and then dissipated with a suddenness that felt to Malik like a bucket of ice water pouring over him. He glanced quickly around the room, but found nothing that would have helped him understand what had just happened.

Despite the shock of being dropped back to room temperature, Malik’s limbs were still loose from his second round of yoga, and he was almost certain that even with the strange visitor he was relaxed enough to crawl into bed to sleep.

As he drifted asleep Malik was aware of a deep feeling that he was being watched, but it didn’t disturb him. It was the same kind of feeling he knew from the nights on the road with his brother, a comforting feeling of being looked after.

 

* * *

 

 

He arrived at the museum an hour before opening the next morning so that Isis wouldn’t be bothered with visitors while they talked. To all appearances Isis was as impeccably fresh and alert as he was, but Malik knew she was always miserable the morning after an accidental late night. He saluted cheerily with his travel mug of coffee as he entered her workspace, always delighted to see her irritable glare in response to his love of mornings. “Sister.”

She pushed a brown paper package across her desk towards him as she took a deep drink of her own coffee. “This is it. Fairly traditional collar necklace, imagery dedicated to the goddess Isis. We have plenty more ornate than this in our collection, but I’m sure you’ll recognize the energy coming off of it as easily as I did.”

He walked to her desk and unwrapped the package, instantly recognizing the same warmth he had felt the night before. The collar itself was deceptively simplistic: alternating rows of long gold and amethyst beads splaying out into a width of approximately four inches, with a fringe running along the bottom of a half dozen small lapis pendants featuring the image of a winged Isis.

“It’s protective magic, sister. Are you sure you want to send it away?”

She studied his face for a moment. “What makes you say that?”

He flushed in embarrassment under the scrutiny. His experience the night before suddenly seemed too intimate to discuss with his sister, but at this point he had no choice but to forge ahead. “I think I accidentally used the artifact when we were on the phone together last night. Some sort of spirit visited me afterwards, and told me Isis sent it. I don’t know if it’s really a _person_ , it just seems like a magical _thing_ to watch over me and explain magic.”

“It feels no different from using the shadow magic in the items to me.”

“I don’t want to offend you, sister, but I’m not sure your Necklace carried as much darkness as some of the other items. You always had a knack for warding away the shadows. Can you trust me with this, at least for a little while?”

She scrutinized him with narrowed eyes as she took a long drink of coffee. Malik knew this look well after so many years spent proving he was taking care of himself. She was trying to decide whether he was lapsing on his promise to reform himself, or if perhaps his other half had slipped back in through a back door and learned to quietly seize control.

Finally, she set the mug down and nodded. “I’m going to check in on you regularly to make sure it isn’t negatively influencing you. We both know you’re easily swayed by shadow magic.”

He cringed but echoed her nod to show his agreement.

“I’m trusting you to know not to do anything reckless simply because a spirit in an ancient necklace tells you to.”

He grinned, sliding the artifact into his jacket pocket. “If it tells me to kill someone, I’ll call you and we can figure out how to exorcise it right away.”

She returned his smile, apparently satisfied by that. “Good luck, Malik. I do want this to turn out well for you.”


	2. the snake

The moment Malik entered his apartment he was greeted with the warmth of his protective spirit coiling around his body.

_That’s much better. Put it on._

Malik laughed and took the brown paper package out of his pocket, ignoring the suggestion for a moment as he made his way to the bedroom. The spirit flowed around his ankles like a cat, and came to rest around his shoulders as he sat at the desk.

He unwrapped the collar and laid it to the side. “No offense, but I’m checking our tombkeeper spells before I put on some tombkeeper artifact. My ancestors weren’t exactly the nicest people, and I’m not interested in inheriting a new family duty.”

For the first time, Malik cracked open the cover on the binder. It felt odd to be sitting in a well-lit modern bedroom staring down pages of Hieratic printed on cheap printer paper. The last time he had touched holy texts Malik had been a miserable scarred child growing claustrophobic in a musty torchlit tomb.

Malik pushed the binder aside for a moment as the stone walls began to close in around him. He got up and pulled the windows wide open, and found a fresh pine scent to load into the diffuser. As he gave himself time to focus on the present, he realized that the room was brighter than the windows and lights could account for.

The spirit had curled itself atop his head and started to glow with a bright white light. Perhaps if he were in a better mood Malik might have said something sardonic about angels and haloes, but he was too grateful to comment. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

_I’m not supposed to hate the tombkeepers, but I know I did. Do. What’s that mean, tombkeeper?_

“It probably means you have good sense.”

He grabbed the binder off of the desk and brought it over to the window so that the sun would hit the pages as he leaned against the sill and read.

The language was dense and dry, each spell consisting of complicated ritual steps, so he quickly began skimming for anything that mentioned Isis specifically. He found a spell ‘for returning that which has been misplaced’ and dogeared it for later, but quickly realized that there wasn’t any inventory of ritual items that would have explained the necklace. He groaned and tossed the binder on the bed, “I guess I trust you well enough. You know, I knew a guy who put on a cursed necklace once. The spirit inside took over his body and helped me try to murder half his friends.”

_Sounds like I can’t be much worse than you already are._

“Desperate times, spirit.” He would never apologize completely for what he had done. The ruthless drive of his teen self had freed Malik from the tombs, even if he had been manipulated and misguided.

_You’re supposed to be calling me ‘master’._

“Don’t hold your breath. I’m not calling anyone ‘master’.”

_Impudent apprentice. I’m refusing to teach you anything until you dress up like the Dark Magician Girl and call me ‘my virile and powerful master’. Now put your collar on already._

Malik laughed. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more – that the spirit knew Duel Monsters, or that it was clearly flirting with him. “A bit of a shame on your end that it’s for a priest and not a dog, huh?”

He grabbed the collar off of his desk and took it to the bathroom. It wasn’t necessary to know what he looked like in it, but it _was_ gorgeous, and Malik couldn’t help but wonder whether the stones would match his eyes.

It fit almost perfectly below his golden choker, practically pouring from the base like water, and he would have considered it a pleasant coincidence if it weren’t so clearly a reminder that the object was meant to be worn by tombkeepers. The history of his family was inescapable, and the necklaces might as well have been forged as a matched set.

He chose to focus on the positive. In his father’s jewelry, with his eyes lined in kohl, not only did it match his eyes. Malik felt confident he looked like a damnably dangerous and sexy pharaoh. 

 _You’re beautiful. You should take your shirt off_.

Malik was startled when the smoky outline of a human body condensed in the air next to him and leaned against his shoulder. There was hardly any detail to the figure, but he could tell the spirit was shorter than he was, and male.

“Too bad for you, there’s definitely no rule about needing to be topless to do magic.” To be fair, the spirit seemed to be owned by the gods much more than Malik ever had been, and had seen him naked the night before, but his scars were still a point of discomfort and he wasn’t going to strip the moment a flirty spirit asked him to.

Malik fluffed his hair around his shoulders and stared for another moment before heading back out into the bedroom, “You have a human shape, does that mean you used to be a person?”

_No idea. I don’t have any memories, I just know things. Sometimes I know more things than I do other times._

“I’m not calling you Master, but I need to call you _something_. What about a name?”

The spirit wrapped his arms around Malik’s shoulders and thought for a moment. _I don’t have one, but I’d like to be called Apep for now._

“Apep?” Malik scrunched his nose. Of all the options out there, it seemed bizarre that something sent by the goddess Isis would want to be associated with a world-destroyer.

_I’m also a snake._

As if to prove his point, the light shifted and Malik realized there was now a massive, shining white cobra wrapped around his shoulders instead of arms. He yelped, trying to shake him off, until with a loud barking laugh the spirit shifted back to his human form. _Don’t like snakes?_

Malik glowered and stepped out from under the embrace, “I was nearly killed by a cobra when I was a child. Why would Isis send me a snake?”

_She thinks we’ll get along._

Malik snorted his doubt and sat down on his bed, dragging the binder over to flip through the spells. “Okay, Apep. If I want to learn how to do magic properly, what do I need to do first?”

Apep dissipated and reappeared behind him, lounging against the sheets. _You play duel monsters. We might as well try summoning one of the monsters. Look for- uh. ‘A Spell For A Diadhank’. That’s what they used to use to summon captured Ka. The monsters have moved on and built their own world, but they’re much easier to access with magic now because of it. A deck of cards can summon them up from the spirit realm just as easily._

Glancing over his shoulder, Malik frowned at his teacher. “I’ve already done that in shadow games.” 

_The game itself did the summoning for you; all you had to do was place cards down. You’ll need to call to it all on your own this time. You’re very out of touch with true Heka and I don’t think you’ll be able to summon your own Ka until you’ve summoned a monster first._

“Okay, we’ll summon a monster.” Malik got up from the bed. “Which one do you want? I have every card they printed up until the Battle City tournament. Name one.”

_No counterfeits. The spirits don’t like it._

Malik snorted as he dragged several large ornate boxes out of his closet. “How do you know I used to counterfeit cards? The counterfeits were for my ghouls, regardless. I’m worth actual rares.”

Apep shrank to a fist sized orb of light and watched over Malik’s shoulder. _I prefer fiends._

Malik cracked open the appropriate box and began pulling cards from a section marked off with purple tabs. “Doma the Angel of Silence, Earl of Demise, Headless Knight, Kuriboh, Lava Golem, Marie the Fallen, Sangan, Souls of the Forgotten-“

 _We should do it in steps and see what kind of powerful monsters your upper limits are._ _Lets try this: Gross Ghost, Earl of Demise, Winged Minion, Headless Knight, and Dark Necrofear._

“Now I’m really worried about haunted necklaces.” Malik couldn’t help but smile as he began laying out the selected cards.

_What?_

“That guy I told you about earlier: He likes horror movies, and the ghost who haunted him picked the same cards out of his collection. Dark Necrofear was one of his favorites. He preferred decks that involved possession and disrupting the other player’s strategies.”

_It sounds like he was smart. Nobody can overpower you if you turn their powers against them._

It tugged at his heart just a little to hear Apep compliment the Dark Spirit’s strategy. Malik knew they wouldn’t have gotten along too well. The Spirit Bakura had hated the gods.

Together they had stayed up late one night with a bottle of wine stolen from the cornerstore near Ryou’s apartment. Malik had wanted to critique Bakura’s deck, but the Spirit had offered him a drink and the evening had blurred from professionalism into bitter jokes about fate and the gods. The Spirit had called himself a thief as he sprawled across the floor with the grace of a man who knew how to be comfortable with nothing. A ring of ancient gold had hung around his neck over a crisp modern t-shirt, and beneath the tidy scent of Ryou’s lemon detergent Bakura carried a wild ozone-phosphorus musk Malik could never attribute to the host. The scent should have been repulsive, but at the time Malik had found himself drawn close by it. As he had said something to the blasphemous tune of ‘Osiris is dead, and he deserves to rot in peace’ Malik had felt Bakura’s barking laugh hot against his face and been startled by their proximity.

_You already meditate daily, so it should be easy for you to enter a state that’s relaxed and open to the flow of Heka._

Malik shook his head as Apep’s words drew him back into the present moment. “How will I know whether I’m open to Heka or not?”

_Heka is Heka. I can’t describe it, but if you just relax and focus, you’ll probably know on your own how to find it. If you have any talent for it, it will call to you. You’ve already used Shadow Magic, so this shouldn’t be too much trouble._

Malik sat on the floor with his legs crossed and spread the cards out in front of himself. Apep mirrored his pose across from him. Closing his eyes, he shifted his focus to slowing his breathing and relaxing his muscles. When he practiced yoga he usually paid attention to the flow of his body, but because this was a mental task he sank his awareness of anything physical further away with each exhale. Reaching a deeper state was much easier than it had been when he had first started meditating. Malik had been afraid before of what would happen to him if he released himself to inner peace, but over time he had come to trust that nothing bad would come for him.

Apep placed a scarred brown hand on his forehead. _Do you feel it? The pulse of Heka?_

Malik nodded. It flowed between them and around them, bright veins of the same stuff Apep was made of, the stuff of spirits.

_Hold onto that and come back up with it._

Malik took in a sharp breath, and did his best to drag the veins of energy up into reality as he resurfaced. As he blinked and shook himself awake, he realized that he had succeeded. He had a new sense of them, as if they had always been there. It was like discovering the secret to a magic eye puzzle: now that he knew they were there, it was incredibly easy to find them again.

He grinned and looked to Apep expectantly, “Okay. So how do I use this to summon monsters?”

_You have to read the spell first, that’s how magic works. You know, the first time I used a spell on a  diadhank I was in a torchlit room surrounded by paintings of the gods and bleeding._

Grimacing, Malik looked over the spell a few times to make sure he wasn’t misreading anything. “I’ll stick to my bedroom, thanks.”

_Oh I don’t mind being in your bedroom._

Did Isis really think Apep was the best option for this job? He was sarcastic and flirty, not at all the kind of creature he associated with the Pharaoh and the Gods. Malik stared at the spirit for a moment, and then shrugged it off. “So I just have to read the words correctly?”

_Yes. Being able to feel Heka is the difficult bit. The spells are easy. You’re using the collar as your focal point, by the way, instead of a diadhank._

Malik ran through the words one last time to make absolutely certain that he knew them, and then put a hand over the gold and amethyst hanging around his neck and started reading. It was a short text, and he felt no different after the words on the page ran out. “Is that it?”  
_Yeah. There’s some things even the Gods don’t feel like fucking around on. So, time to see if you have any talent at all, huh?_

Apep lounged on the floor next to the cards. The spirit was still a bright body of light with no discernable features, though Malik could have sworn he had seen it as a solid human figure in his deep trance. Apep pointed lazily to the first monster card. _The Gross Ghost of Fled Dreams should be a simple summon. Pulling them into this world means using the Heka around you to connect with their energy, and tugging what you find through the line. You could compare it to modern internet, if I understand internet correctly._

Malik shrugged, “I grew up in a tomb. Internet might as well be made of Heka as far as I can tell the difference.”

Focusing on the way the Heka rolled in the air around him, Malik stared at the card and considered whatever kind of energy signature a creature like the Gross Ghost might give off. As he thought about it, he heard an answering call, as if from the other side of a heavy curtain. It knew it was looking for him, and it was willing to be summoned. He did the mental equivalent of pulling a sock inside out, and jumped in surprise when the Duel Monster simply popped into existence above their heads.

“It’s that easy?” He blinked up at the creature as it hovered, still and silent.

_I told you, they’ve created some sort of spirit realm all on their own now. I don’t really understand why, but it makes it an awful lot easier to summon monsters than when we needed stone tablets and diadhanks to summon anything other than our own Ka._

“Did you ever summon a trapped Ka? Were you in the Pharaoh’s court?”

Apep’s brightness dimmed for a moment, and his shape wavered. _No. I remember my own Ka, but I don’t know anything about any of the Pharaohs. I don’t remember why I summoned mine, I just remember using it._

“That’s fine by me. I think I like you better just knowing you aren’t associated with any of them, they’ve ruined my life enough already.”

_You’re not very pious for a tombkeeper._

“You’re not very pious for a godsent spirit, either.”

Apep laughed hard at that, an echoey jackal’s laugh that reminded Malik of the Spirit in the Ring. Perhaps it was cultural.

 _I’m beginning to believe a lack of piety is the reason Isis turned me into this. I think I slighted her in the past._ _Anyways, get me a Winged Minion out on the field._

Malik smiled as he summoned the requested monster just as easily as the first. He didn’t mind that the gods had delivered another rebel into his life. Perhaps Isis had wanted to send him someone he would be able to relate to for this task.

_Do you feel overly drained by controlling both of them at the same time?_

Malik shook his head ‘no’, too busy marveling at the fact that he’d summoned two real monsters to say it out loud.

_Tell the Winged Minion to sacrifice itself to the Gross Ghost and put it in what amounts to a graveyard._

Although they weren’t playing a shadow game and the laws of Duel Monsters didn’t necessarily apply, Malik found it easy to what amounted to the same thing. He could easily hold onto the sacrificed Minion despite the fact that it was technically spent now.

_You’re having no trouble holding the Winged Minion or handling a stronger Gross Ghost?_

“No trouble at all. It could be the collar making this easy, but I feel fine.”

_Good. Headless Knight now._

Malik brought it fourth easily. “No strain holding all three.”

_Okay, sacrifice the Knight to bring out Earl of Demise._

Malik did as instructed, nodding to show that it wasn’t causing him any trouble.

_Destroy the Gross Ghost of Fled Dreams with the Earl of Demise. This isn’t a shadow game, so your soul isn’t connected to them and you shouldn’t suffer any consequences for doing so._

Malik focused on the Earl for a moment, and found it as easy to direct as a particularly suggestable member of his Ghouls.

Apep caught his smile before Malik needed to point out that he’d passed the test, _If you still have a hold on the three creatures you’ve destroyed, you should be able to bring Dark Necrofear through in the same manner as in the game._

Malik nodded, and focused on Dark Necrofear. She answered his call more warily than the others, but he offered her the three tethered monsters as an offering and she accepted. It broke his heart just a little as she appeared, a monster Bakura had sworn up and down would be unbeatable in battle even as Malik had tried to convince him to switch her out for something stronger.

That night in the host Ryou’s apartment, after they had gotten drunk, Bakura had glared over at Malik and said he wouldn’t take out a card that reminded him so much of his wrathful mother, and Malik had been too shocked to say anything. In the silence that followed, Bakura’s expression changed to something wicked and he’d climbed into Malik’s lap and asked if Malik could “ _make everything feel better, just for a little while_.”

_You lost her._

Malik looked up as Apep’s voice intruded on his thoughts. Dark Necrofear had vanished, and the Earl of Demise was beginning to fray around the edges. He dismissed the Earl completely before looking back to his teacher. “I’m sorry, I was distracted. I didn’t have any trouble controlling her, she just brings up a lot of memories.”

Apep tilted his head in consideration, and then shrugged. _If you’re lying about what you can handle, the monsters will just devour you eventually. Not my problem in the long run._

“Isis might be disappointed in you.”

_You’re right. I should devour you myself and use the power to overthrow the gods._

Malik rolled his eyes, he was getting used to this game by now, “Don’t choke, I like it when boys swallow without complaining.”

Apep disappeared, laughing. _Take a rest, tombkeeper. You’ll find you’re much more drained than you think you are._

The room went quiet, and Malik fell back on his bed. Apep was right: he felt like he’d done a full workout. It was only mid-morning, but Malik found himself ready to take a nap. Deciding that it was fair to let himself sleep, he pulled his pants and jewelry off and burrowed under the covers. 

\---

Malik awoke a few hours later, a warm weight between his shoulderblades. As he rolled to get up, he realized that the weight had been Apep coiled in his snake form on top of him. Malik found it hard to be mad about Apep ignoring his feelings on snakes when his back felt as good as it did from the heating pad, and even harder when the snake squeaked in distress and slithered under the removed covers. He wondered when exactly the spirit had decided to join him, and giggled a bit at the thought of a spirit getting tired at all.

Stretching, Malik glanced out the window to get an idea of the time. Late afternoon: plenty of time to do a bit of quick grocery shopping. He found his pants and put on a fresh shirt before heading out. He didn’t bother leaving a note for Apep, he doubted it would be a big deal if he came and went without telling an immortal spirit creature.

There wasn’t a type of natural weather Malik didn’t enjoy, and as he rode his bike to the store he basked in the dry heat of the day that had driven most shoppers home until evening. Traffic was reasonable enough that Malik mostly stuck to the laws of the road. He wasn’t in love with Luxor, but it was home for now and it was good enough.

When he returned from his trip loaded down with fresh vegetables, Malik found Apep sitting in the kitchen flipping through his spellbook. Apep didn’t even look up as Malik started putting the groceries away.

“Are you planning our next lesson?”

_Browsing._

The spirit seemed distracted by whatever spell he was reading, so Malik didn’t bother asking more questions. He finished unpacking and ducked into the bedroom to dial his sister.

She answered quickly, apparently not as overloaded as she had been the other day. “Hello, brother. Have you done anything with the collar yet?”

He picked it up from the end table, twisting beads between his fingers, “Yes! Apep and I did some practice with summoning monsters earlier, it’s a lot easier than I expected, really.”

“Apep?”

“The spirit Isis sent to train me. He calls himself Apep.”

She sighed. “Malik, do I really need to tell you not to trust a spirit calling itself _Apep_?” 

“He hasn’t done anything concerning yet, I think it’s just a joke.”  
“Isis wouldn’t send you something that makes jokes like that. At least try to find a spell to exorcise that creature, even if you don’t get rid of the collar. It probably slipped in through the shadows, spirits can lie and it could mean you harm.”

Malik rolled his eyes, “The gods would let dark spirits parade around pretending to do their work?”

“The gods allowed the millennium items to be forged in the name of the pharaoh, if you recall.”

Malik grunted in frustration. This was supposed to be a celebratory call, not another lecture. “I’ll think about it.” As much as he was enjoying himself, the last thing he wanted was to be anything like Atem and his court: ignorant fools who accepted dark magic without once questioning the source. “I’ll call you back in the morning.”

“I’ll talk to you in the morning, then, brother.”

Malik was unsurprised to see Apep lounging across his bed holding out the spellbook when he turned around.

 _She’s smart, one of Isis’ favorites, but she’s wrong on this one._ He passed the spellbook over to Malik. _Here, this spell will prove it. ‘Return Dark Spirits’. If I’m not from the gods, it’ll exorcise me immediately. Do you need to check the copy paper to make sure I didn’t mess around with it?_

Malik took the binder and looked over the spell. He was sure he had seen it before, so it was probably genuine. Apep seemed confident he wouldn’t disappear, but Malik started the spell anyways. It felt a little like a betrayal to their friendship, as if Malik were incapable of trusting Apep on his word, but Malik figured it was better to be safe.

It reminded him of the moment he had stopped being a criminal bent on killing an ancient pharaoh’s host and started acting as a tombkeeper again. His reformation had come with passing the Ring and it’s Dark Spirit over to Yugi and his friends for safekeeping, and it was the last time he’d ever seen his old partner.

When he was finished the lights flickered, and he panicked a little at the thought they might go out.

A deep dark silhouette rose from the floor like ink sifting through water. It seemed to assess the room for a moment, before letting out a scream of rage and tackling Malik to the ground.

It forced its thumbs down into the bit of space above Malik’s choker, pressing down hard on his windpipe. Its ethereal fingers were surprisingly strong and solid, and the contact burned cold, like dry ice pressed against his skin. Malik kicked and struggled, but it was stronger than he was.

_What the fuck, Malik?_

As Malik weakened and felt himself slipping, Apep grabbed the dark form by its long wispy mane of hair and pulled it off of him. He slammed it into the bed, twisting an arm behind its back and digging a knee into its spine to keep it from struggling too much.

_When the fuck did you break your soul, asshole?_

Dazed, Malik scrambled towards the door and turned, leaning against the frame, to stare gaping at the odd scene in front of him. Two vaguely human spirits struggled on his bed, one made of shadow and one made of light. His pulse beat hard in his ears. “What?”

Despite being much smaller than the shadow-person, Apep was doing a decent job of keeping it under control. _You were going to try summoning your Ka with half your soul in the Shadows? Do you know how badly that would have gone? You could have torn it in half and killed it!_

Half his soul? The realization hit hard. “That’s my other half? I defeated him, he shouldn’t exist anymore!”

_Why the fuck would you try to kill half of your own soul?_

Apep had wrestled both of the creature’s arms behind its back by now, and bound them with rope made of a light that did nothing to penetrate the darkness of the form. Its struggling had lessened, and Malik couldn’t tell whether it was stunned or simply saving its energy.

Malik pushed himself to his feet, but didn’t try to get any closer to the bed. “You saw the scars on my back, right?”  

_An impressive rite of torture your tombkeeper ancestry developed millennia ago._

Malik nodded and turned his head away to look off down the hallway rather than face the monstrosity he’d created, “I was initiated when I was eleven years old, and apparently _that thing_ was created during the ritual. I don’t remember creating it; I just remember escaping from the pain. I suffered gaps in my memory for years after. I was involved in some… regrettable… circumstances, and he wrestled control of my body from me and tried to kill me. He shouldn’t exist, and it certainly isn’t _my_ fault that I survived our death match and he didn’t.”

His other half snarled, and Malik heard it try to buck Apep. **_You’re weak, you couldn’t even look at the bloodstains you left behind, I always took care of your messes, you could never handle the truth of anything you’ve done, you can’t even look at me_ \- **

Malik snorted in frustration and whirled to face the thing on the bed. He marched across the room and leaned down close to its infinitely unseeable shadowed face, snarling. “I don’t do those sorts of things anymore. I don’t need you, I never wanted you. You. Shouldn’t. Exist.”

**_You made me because you needed me. You let everyone fear you because of things I did for you. You were too weak; you should have died during that ritual and let me have the body._ **

Apep shoved the shadow’s face into the mattress with one arm and pushed Malik away from the bed with the other. _I don’t care who did what, you’re the same person. Malik, go for a walk and cool off. I’ll deal with this half._

Affronted, Malik barked, “He’s not me!”

Somewhat to his surprise, his other half managed to bark **_I’m not him!_ **with his face smothered in the bed linens.

The similarity in tone spooked Malik enough for him to shove his hands in his pockets and head for the door. “Deal with that thing while I’m out. I don’t want to see it when I get back”

_Go cool off. We’ll be here. Both of us._


	3. the nile

The sun was low in the sky when Malik stepped down onto the pavement outside his apartment building. The chill of evening was setting in, and he regretted not grabbing a jacket on his way out. His throat still hurt where his other half had tried to choke him, and he was incensed at the fact that Apep hadn’t simply used some godly spell to send it back to the shadows where it belonged.

Half of his soul? Hardly. The thing was an excised tumor, nothing more.

The last thing Malik wanted to admit to was the fear which sat like a cold ball of ice in the bottom of his gut. He had barely survived his previous confrontation with his other half, and that had been at the peak of his days as a duelist. Even with magic on his side, there was a good chance the thing could hurt him again. He’d already lost one battle against the thing with the thousands year old Dark Spirit of the Ring on his side, and Apep didn’t seem nearly as ready to team up against it as the dead thief had been.

Malik bit down hard on his lip. He _really_ wished Bakura were on his side for this. The Spirit had all the cunning and ruthlessness Malik now lacked, and he would have traded just about anything to have his former partner solve this problem for him.  

The Spirit of the Ring was _dead_ , Malik understood that, but it was hard to conceptualize a _final death_ for him sometimes; not when the Spirit had been dead the entire time they had worked together and always seemed to crop up again when he was least wanted. The truth seemed to be that there was no closure in discovering that a dead thing had passed on in the night; that a haunting had ended.

He eventually found himself looking out across the Nile.

 Malik had met the Spirit while standing on an ocean dock at the edge of Domino City, and only much later learned that the Spirit had known the Nile in the days that it had been the lifegiver to one of the most powerful empires on the planet. He wondered what it had looked like then, with fewer humans to pollute the world. A deeper part of him wondered why they couldn’t have met in a simpler time and lived simpler lives by the river.

It had been stupid to let himself pretend that indulging in _making Bakura feel good_ for a night wouldn’t rub off on him even a little bit. That it wouldn’t be _complicated_ to have gotten involved with something long gone in a borrowed body.

He spit on the pavement, “You’re somewhere in hell laughing your ass off.”

The laughter was what haunted Malik the most. It seemed to echo across every memory of the Spirit. He laughed when he won card games. He laughed when he lost card games. He had laughed as he sliced his host’s arm open. Sloppy drunk, Bakura had laughed as he tugged Malik by the hair down on top of him on the floor. Maybe the universe was one long cruel joke, and if you hung around long enough you’d get to the punchline.

Malik snorted derisively, pushed the hair out of his face, and turned back towards his apartment.

\---

Apep was in the kitchen brewing tea when Malik returned. His shadow was nowhere to be seen, which meant it was probably still bound in the bedroom.

_He’s cooperating with me. Don’t know what effect you’ll have on him, though._

Malik dropped into a chair and watched the spirit at work. “Why wasn’t that thing destroyed?”

_If he had been destroyed, you would be in serious trouble right now. I suspect this is why you’ve been so passive._

Malik glared. “Passive?”

Apep set a mug down on the table in front of Malik and filled it. Without warning, he slid into Malik’s lap and ran a warm hand through his hair. _You used to have a bite to you, but you let me do whatever I want._

Malik reached around Apep to get the mug, quietly fuming. “Quit acting like you know me.”

 _I might know you._ Apep plucked the mug from his hand and casually tossed it over his shoulder. He didn’t even turn to look as it crashed to the floor and shattered. Malik stared in disbelief as bright grass-colored tea spread across the tile.

After a moment of indignant shock he pushed Apep away, marched across the kitchen to grab a few clean towels, and began soaking up the mess. “What the fuck kind of game do you think you’re playing right now?”

_Look at me when you’re angry._

Malik checked to make sure he had scooped all of the ceramic shards into the wastebin before he carried the towels to the laundry hamper in the bathroom. The moment he dropped them in, Apep overturned the hamper. At this point, Malik could see his own pulse beating behind his eyes, but he righted the hamper and tossed the laundry back into it.

_Pharaoh Atem’s memories have been carved into one hundred generations of Ishtar men and you helped him pass on._

“That’s none of your business.”

_Pharaoh Atem would have killed you with your shadow, and you helped him pass on._

“I survived.”

_Pharaoh Atem massacred an entire people, right down to the only person you ever loved-_

“Why are you doing this?!” Malik finally rounded on the spirit, shoving him against a wall and glaring down into the space his face should have been.

Apep leaned heavily against the wall and ran his fingers through Malik’s hair again. _Because you’re broken and I can help you fix yourself._

Malik breathed heavily onto the spirit’s face a moment longer. It pissed him off to admit it, but Apep might be right. Now that he was trying to atone for his past, Malik didn’t need his anger. That having been said, there really wasn’t very much anger for him to struggle against in the first place, even when he would have been perfectly justified in getting angry.

“Okay.” Malik let Apep go. He turned his back on the spirit and started to strip, stepping over to the shower. “Okay, I’m taking a shower. Go deal with my other half.”

_He’s already dealt with, are you sure you don’t need help with your shower?_

Malik flushed as he leaned over to turn the water on. Cold, because Apep worked him up the same way Bakura used to and Malik needed to kill all of those feelings before he dealt with his two new spirits again. Out of the corner of his eye Malik noticed Apep’s form slip out of focus as he removed his jewelry, another reminder that he was once again dealing with something dead. “Get out, Apep.”

Apep left the room laughing with the high and wild bark of a hyena, and it chilled Malik more than stepping into the stream of water did.

\---

Malik let the cold numb him. It was an old ritual of his, much older than yoga. Cold water on tap was a blessing beyond his wildest dreams, and he took advantage.

‘Love’ was an odd word for Apep to use in reference to Malik’s relationship with Bakura. He wondered what kind of information Isis could have supplied the spirit with to lead to a comment like that. Even their physical acts fell short of anything that could be referred to as _love_ in innuendo; they’d kept to the rather embarrassing and awkward dryhumping of drunk teenagers and a few quick unacknowledged brushes of skin in the few week’s they’d spent together after. It wasn’t impossible that Malik had held some affection for the Spirit of the Ring, but he hadn’t been in a good enough mental state during their partnership for any feelings to be realized in full.

Malik had never asked Bakura his feelings, of course, but if the gods had somehow wrangled the spirit out of the shadows and given Bakura a proper trial after his final death, Malik doubted he had waxed poetic about love before being tossed to Ammit.

Malik finally shut the water off when his skin felt rubbery and foreign. He stared himself down in the mirror as he methodically combed through his hair. Was he wrong about the person staring back at him? It was his body, and he’d been confident that his other half didn’t belong within its borders. He leaned close to the glass and stared into his own eyes, looking for a vacancy, but his breath fogged the image before he came anywhere close to an answer.

\---

When Malik entered his bedroom Apep was sitting cross legged against the headboard; Malik’s shadow lay unbound across the bed with his head in Apep’s lap. Apep hummed something soothing, glowing fingers sifting through streamers of smokelike shadow. Malik felt an unfamiliar pang of jealousy at the sight: Apep was _his_ guide, he’d been comforting _Malik_ just yesterday.

**_Sup, fucker?_ **

Malik leaned against the doorframe, wary about crossing the threshold. His shadow was relaxed - unfamiliar territory. “So, uh...”

Apep held out his left hand as he continued stroking through wild dark wisps with his other. _This isn’t my area of expertise, but you should be able to reintegrate with him in a meditative state. I’ll function as a medium to keep you connected until you can rejoin properly._

“So after we do this he’ll be able to take over again like he used to?” Malik eyed the offered hand, a bear trap chained to a lion.

_No. You’ll be one person again, like you were before the initiation._

“But that was just me. He was created that day. Why would _that_ _thing_ be okay with just disappearing?”

**_I get a body again whether you fuck up or not._ **

Apep shrugged. _I’m not sure what it will do to either of you, really, but it’s the way your soul is meant to be. He was a part of your subconscious. He always existed, but he shouldn’t have broken off like he did._

Avoiding the offered hand for the moment, Malik walked over to his diffuser and sifted through his collection of scented oils. He wasn’t sure which smell was right for this sort of experience, but he knew he had to bring some comfort to the restrictive apartment before they did anything else.

_Use the ocean scent. It’s primordial._

Malik frowned at the thought but it made a certain amount of sense, so he squeezed a few drops in. “Taking a journey back to the womb today, huh?”

He was wary of his Shadow’s movements as he walked to Apep and took the hand that was once again offered up. Apep tugged until Malik agreed to sit down on the bed next to him. The shadow lazily stretched and sat up on the other side, taking Apep’s other hand.

_As long as you can go into a meditative state, Malik, I should be able to bring you both into your soul room, so we’re ready to go as soon as you are._

A quick movement from Malik’s shadow almost startled him off of the bed, but he realized that it had thrown an arm around Apep’s neck and kissed him. Malik stared in shock as Apep grunted, sighed, and then kissed the thing back. He butted his forehead against the Shadow’s playfully to cut the session short, and turned back to Malik as though nothing was amiss. _I promise you you’ll be fine._

Malik wasn’t sure which of them he was talking to anymore, but the whole scenario was making his skin crawl and he just wanted to get it over with. He smashed his eyes shut and tried his best to keep his jaw unclenched, and after a minute or two of careful breathing he felt himself going under.

\---

They stood in the open air, an empty, bright, and carefully cultivated part of Malik’s subconscious he’d used often when he had been the owner of the Millennium Rod. It gave away nothing to visitors he dragged in, and it had no walls to pen him in. Somehow he found that he was glad the place still existed, even though he hadn’t had a way to access it in a long time.

 _I’ll give you some privacy._ The same scarred hand as before was holding Malik’s, and he realized he must be seeing a living version of Apep. Curiosity caused him to panic and grip harder as the spirit tried to let go and turn away. Apep turned to face him with confusion written on his face. _Did you want something first?_

Malik’s first impression was that Apep was far too elegant for his personality. His hair shone like moonlight and spilled all the way to the ground, his eyes were large and bright and matched his hair in color, and his fingers seemed delicate under Malik’s grip. With a better look, though, Malik realized he was thin from hunger under muscles and scars that must have been earned in a hard life.

His Shadow began to laugh, drawing Malik’s attention back from Apep. Malik shut his mouth, which must have fallen open at some point and looked past him to glare at the thing, letting go of his mentor. “No, I can handle this.”

Apep’s smile was sharp and eerily knowing, but he vanished without a word.

Here in the soul room Malik’s other half looked the way he had when wearing Malik’s body. He was leering at Malik, head tilted and arms crossed. ** _He’s pretty, right? Wouldn’t mind bending him over a table?_**

Malik scoffed, arms crossed in a mirror of his other half. “You want to fuck Apep?”

**_You do too._ **

“No I don’t. He’s not even a real person.”

**_He used to be a real person. I’d say we have a kink for that, huh?_ **

“I didn’t want to fuck the Ring Spirit either.”

**_We definitely wanted to fuck the Ring Spirit._ **

“I had better things to do than hook up with one of my underlings.”

**_Oh we both know he wasn’t just an underling. You’re too good at denying yourself things, Main Personality. You liked him enough to let him dryhump us when we were wasted. I’m not even sure if you actually know we like men or not._ **

Malik kept his glare steady despite the heat in his face. “I’m well aware of my own orientation, thank you.”

 ** _Our._** His Shadow stuck its tongue out, **_Can’t pretend we aren’t stuck together now, not after everything Apep said._**

 Malik cringed. The thing was right, and he wasn’t exactly happy about it. “I hate you.”

**_That’s sweet. I hate you, too. You’re too weak to protect us from father, I was the one who had to kill him for Rishid, and you both hated me for it because you can’t even admit you were afraid of him._ **

“You tried to kill Rishid, don’t pretend that killing my father had anything to do with Rishid.”

**_Only after he drove me out of the body. I can’t trust you to keep us alive, he had to go away so that I could stay in control._ **

Malik rolled his eyes, “I’m holding up fine without you. Better, even. I don’t lose time anymore, and I’ve pieced together a lot of shit you did that fucked us both over whenever I was out.”

His shadow shrugged, unaffected by the suggestion. **_You couldn’t have run the ghouls without me. I know enough to know you’re not really living anymore, either. You haven’t done anything for yourself in years. Forget killing our enemies, would a casual fuck every once in a while be so bad?_**

“That would be dangerous in Luxor.”

**_We own a fucking boat. We could start over anywhere on the planet. We could move to Domino and see if our ex’s pretty little host is as interesting as his ghost was._ **

Malik frowned. He wasn’t interested in trying to meet up with Bakura Ryou, but he couldn’t think of a good enough explanation for staying in Luxor. “My siblings are here.”

His excuse was weak enough that it caused his Shadow to double over in laughter, **_We both know that they aren’t any more rooted than you are. They hated the tombs as much as you did, but you won’t give them a good reason to move further away. Your fear is holding them back._**

“I’m not holding them back.”

**_Then do something. Do anything. Move forward, don’t float._ **

Malik wanted to, he really did, but-

But there just wasn’t any drive at the base of his spine to move him anymore. He’d slowed down and gone to sleep, rolled with the last of his tombkeeper duties and the cleanup after.

He studied the abyss below them for a long time. “I’m as broken as you are.”

**_Oh, you’re much worse._ **

Malik let that one slide with a roll of his eyes. He was finally understanding that there was no point in arguing, because he had all the introspection between the two of them. There were things he had that his Shadow lacked, and his Shadow had things that he lacked as well. They were each an incomplete half of everything that made a human being.

“Let’s fix this.” He held out a hand, and his Shadow ignored it as it tackled him to the ground, laughing. Malik was caught off balance in the void for a moment, and then he was alone and nauseous with emotion.

\---

A coughing fit brought him back into reality, and he found Apep already standing by with an empty trash can. Malik didn’t comprehend the trash can until a moment later, when he started heaving the contents of his stomach into it.

Apep settled behind him and held his hair back as he endured repeated waves of nausea, humming some ancient lullaby.  It must have only lasted a few minutes but it felt like the fit lasted for hours, and Malik was left limp and drained by the end of it.

Apep brought him water and coaxed him into drinking, and helped him climb under the covers to sleep it off.


	4. fever

The fever creeped under his skin in his dreams and pulled him back to consciousness sometime deep in the night. His back burned as badly as when the hot knife had first cut into it, but he felt too weak to even push the blankets away from his body.

Apep was sitting on the edge of his bed watching him, and Malik whimpered pathetically for his attention. When he realized what Malik was trying to do, Apep pulled him clear of the blankets and ran off to the kitchen for icewater.

Malik choked down some of the water and then did his best to get comfortable on his stomach on top of the damp sheets. “I feel awful.”

 _Your soul is repairing itself._ Apep’s warm hands settled onto his shoulders and he flinched at the addition of heat, but the pain went away and he relaxed into the touch. The spirit began to knead with a healing touch down his back, singing that lullaby again, and eventually Malik dozed off again.

His dreams were of fire and blood, and he stood frozen in the midst of them with no energy to run. Sometime near dawn a glimmering white snake came into the dream and coiled protectively around him, and the shock of relief drew him back awake again.

When he saw that Malik was awake again, Apep helped him out of bed and sat him down in the bathtub. Malik stared listlessly at the tiles on his wall as Apep drew a cool bath. He made no move to help as Apep scrubbed the sweat from his skin with a soapy rag, nor when he was eased backwards into the water to have his hair washed.

The cool water was refreshing, and when they were done Apep sat by and watched on the rim of the tub to let him soak for a while longer.

When he saw that Malik had started to shiver, Apep drained the water and helped him to walk back to bed. The linens had been swapped out, and Malik collapsed back on top of them with only half a thought about the fact that Apep hadn’t left him to change them at any point.

Instead of sleep his mind began to drift. Memories clamored for attention, and each one threatened to drown him in a wave of emotion.

He felt a bone deep terror as he was led to his initiation, pleading with Rishid and his father to take the obvious alternative. He was trapped by tradition and bound with rope. The terror rose and sharpened into a knife point carving into his back, and in the present Malik screamed and clutched at the blankets. 

He felt all of it this time, and he cried for himself because he had never before experienced the process to the end or the grief and loneliness he had let his other half handle for him when his wounds had been wrapped and he had been put to bed to rest.

His sister came to offer him a day outside, and he felt anxious joy coursing through his blood, and then shame and terror when it was revealed that just one day in the sun would curse his family forever. It became deep hot rage when his father chose to be the curse, and he killed him and felt free for the first time in his entire life.

He rode his first motorcycle and his limbs were weightless. He stood in awe beneath his first lighting storm. He screamed with joy in a backroom with Rishid after his first successful bluff, and pride blossomed as he started to master all the little tricks to manipulating minds he wasn’t in a position to dominate.

The body thief who called himself Bakura sliced his arm open, and Malik’s blood rushed south. Bakura wrapped his arms around Malik’s middle as they rushed down an open road on his bike, and Malik laughed to the wide skies. Bakura crawled across the carpet and Malik felt-

He wouldn’t call it love.

The tournament ended, and he threw away that torn bit of his soul.

He guided Yugi and his friends around Egypt numbly, and screamed at himself to feel.

He passively listened to stories about the Thief King and Zorc and he screamed at himself to feel.

He sent Atem to the afterlife he deserved by birth rather than deed, and in rage he screamed at himself to feel.

When he was finally free of the long line of memories, Malik simply _felt_ , and he cried. He cried for the Thief King, because it hadn’t been fair from the start. He cried for his family, because they’d been trapped by one flawed mortal favored by the gods. He cried for the people he had broken as a leader of the ghouls, and he cried for the child whose only escape was into a world of crime.

Apep brought him water and he drank, he brought him food and Malik ate, when his back seemed to split open with pain Apep was there to rub that pain away with his hands like sunlight. Apep stroked his hair and held him as Malik sobbed out incoherent thoughts about all the pain he and everyone he loved had ever been through, and sang that ancient song whenever Malik curled up in his lap in silence.

Night fell again, and with it Malik collapsed into a deep and dreamless sleep.

When he awoke the next morning the first thing he saw was Apep glimmering in the light of the sun streaming through his window. The spirit looked like he had in Malik’s soul room; translucent but fully colored, like a real human being. A gorgeous human being. He recalled that his other half had remarked on Apep’s appearance as though he were used to it, and realized that he could see him like this because something in his soul was finally healed.

After their ordeal Malik felt soft and vulnerable, “Apep, I think I’m starting to fall-”

 _I think we have a problem._ Apep handed him a chunk of bread spread with soft cheese, and Malik immediately tore into it. _Could you join me in the bathroom?_

He left, not looking back. Malik paused to finish his breakfast before he followed.

 _I fucked up._ Apep leaned against the wall next to the bathroom mirror with his arms hugged tight to himself.

Malik shook his head vigorously, “You’ve been great, I couldn’t have handled healing my soul without you.”

_I fucked your scars up. I didn’t realize I was burning them while I was working on your back._

A jolt of fear shot through Malik’s stomach, and he twisted around to check the damage. His back looked – well, strange. Alien, after knowing the carvings so well.

The precise cuts were gone, the ink that had been trapped in the scars had run loose and swirled in odd patterns as the skin bubbled and melted and settled in strange places. Dead patches flaked off like a bad sunburn, and there were angry boils and scabs all across his back, but the skin didn’t feel any tighter or more damaged. “It’s not worse.”

_I erased a relic of Pharaoh Atem, and Isis is pissed._

Malik poked at the raw, sensitive skin, “I’m not a relic of Atem, I’m a human being who was tied down and burned because of a fucked up tradition in his honor. She can’t be angry if I’m not angry.”

_She wants to recall me and find someone else._

Malik growled and grabbed Apep by both shoulders. “She can’t have you! What kind of claim does she even have on you? I’ll challenge it!”

_I broke a statue of her when I was robbing a tomb as a teenager, and when I was meant to be devoured in darkness she laid claim to my soul and spared me. I should be gone or worse, and everything left of me belongs to her. You can’t challenge something like that._

Malik pulled Apep away from the wall to wrap his arms around his neck, burying his face in Apep’s long shimmering silver hair. “She can’t have you! Apep, I’m falling in love with you and I’m not letting the gods take you again!”

_Again?_

Malik made a sloppy attempt to kiss him, and in the process jammed his teeth painfully against his own lips. He pressed against Apep anyways, until the Spirit caught up with him and began to respond with kisses of his own. By the taste of blood Malik knew he had cut himself on his teeth, but he didn’t care because he needed this comfort more than anything else, and together they made it work.

They were interrupted by an insistent pounding at the door. Malik let go, swearing, and sifted through the laundry hamper for an outfit he could toss on quickly while Apep slid gracelessly down the wall to the floor. The volume of the knocking made it clear that he had no time to find his jewelry, and he barely took the time to smooth his hair out before rushing to answer it.   
“Sister?”

Isis looked him over once, worry written across her features. “You haven’t answered any of my calls.”

Malik flinched at the tone, knowing that she was right to be worried. He hadn’t thought to check his phone even once, and right after a conversation that had ended with her worried about dark sprits hurting him.

“I’ve been sick, I should have told you – I’m okay though.” He shuffled his feet, unconsciously barring her from the apartment with his body, “I- a lot has happened with Apep. It would be hard to explain, but I promise you I’m okay.”

Isis’ expression sharpened into suspicion, and she pushed past him into the apartment. “Where is he?”

Malik followed helplessly, desperate to stay on his sister’s good side. “He helped me repair my soul, sister. I was going to learn to summon my ka later, but he said I couldn’t do that until I fixed some things.”

“Apep! You’re not the first spirit that’s tried to latch on my brother! Where are you?” She tried a few rooms down the hall before she finally swung open the bathroom door, revealing him still sitting against the wall where Malik had left him.

_Isis, he’s healed. You told me to heal him, and I healed him. His mind was broken, and he hated those scars. I know you wouldn’t approve of the actions I took, but it’s what I had to do._

Isis paused in the door, and then stumbled, grabbing for Malik to steady herself. He caught her, but she brushed him off and stood taller and straighter. She extended her hand to Apep, who cautiously took it and was pulled to his feet. “Malik, could you please lead us to your kitchen and make some tea?”

Her voice resonated in a way it never had before, carrying something deep and ancient.

 

* * *

 

“You’re Isis, right?” Malik poured tea into his sister’s mug first, and then filled two more for himself and Apep. “The goddess, I mean. Not my sister.”

“Yes.” She sniffed the tea and gave him a questioning look.

He gave an apologetic shrug as he set the teapot aside, “It’s an herbal chamomile blend, and pharaohs drank chamomile?”

She sighed, and in a way that reminded him very much of his sister said, “Malik, please don’t give guests your stomach cramp tea next time.”

“Yes, Isis.”

“Your sister is fine, of course. I’m discussing everything with her right now. She and I have a special connection in more than just name, but I haven’t had the opportunity to speak with her directly before, and for the pressure to bring myself fourth to her I thank you. I’m here to rule in on Apep’s claims that he did his job and healed you.”

Apep shrank in his seat, hiding behind his mug of chamomile. _I did the right thing, if you wanted it done wrong in a way that made Atem happy-_

“Apep.” She gave him a stern look. “Malik’s soul is indeed healed. You walked him through the process in a way that allowed him to regain his shadow half without falling victim to its base nature. I am given to understand that you see both halves of him equally - You could have instructed them to come together in a way that made a very powerful and broken dark magical being.”

_He doesn’t need that stuff, he can pass into the afterlife like this. He would have been trapped in the shadows as a mangled spirit in any other form._

Malik took a long drink to keep from interrupting. Apep hadn’t said any of this to him, he had made it sound like it was only important for learning magic.

“So do you now truly believe that damaging your soul for power is wrong? That the soul should be left in its natural state?”

Apep scrunched his nose in frustration, but nodded. _Didn’t you break my soul up to use me like this, though?_

“No, I skimmed you up out of the shadows, but you were the one who let yourself be damaged in this way.”

He crossed his arms and looked away from her, _Well, can you do anything to fix me?_

“Yes, but I needed proof that you wouldn’t simply go out and repeat your mistakes. Have you remembered what those mistakes were yet?”

_I robbed some pharaoh’s tombs, but they deserved it. I helped an assassin pursue the pharaoh, but it was because there was no justice for my family._

Malik nearly dropped his mug, suddenly blurting out the thing he instinctively knew was true, “You gave yourself to Zorc Necrophades.”

Apep and Isis looked over at him, both shocked in different ways.

“Yes, Malik, how would you know that?”

_I did what?”_

“I- I think I’ve suspected it for a while now, but I thought I was just- imagining things.” He wouldn’t admit he’d blamed lovesickness for the suspicion. Not to Isis, not even to Apep. Or rather-

“He’s the Spirit of the Ring. I called him Bakura when I knew him, but I don’t know if that’s his real name.”

“Bakhure, the Thief King of the ancient world, you’re right Malik.”

Apep shook his head, _I don’t remember anything like that._

“He deserves another chance, Isis. The game wasn’t fair last time he was alive. You accepted Atem, you even accepted Akhenaden. I’ll- He always tried to do right when he wasn’t blinded by Necrophades and the unfairness of everything that happened to him. I can put my own chance at paradise on the line-”

“You don’t need to do that, Malik. I sent you my collar and what’s left of Bakhure because I felt you were ready to give him a trial for me. He’s already shown that if things were different he would make better decisions.”

_So, what, I’m going to go rest in Aaru now?_

“No, I’m bringing you back with all of your memories intact. If you live a reformed life, you’ll be accepted upon death. But you have to do right until then.” She got up from her seat and extended a hand to Apep again, “Come with me, Bakhure.”

Malik stayed in his seat, more than a little mystified, as she led him out of the kitchen. They moved with the grace of legendary figures.

There was a loud thud as somebody collapsed in the living room. Startled out of the moment, Malik hurried over only to find a much less ethereal version of the spirit he’d known as Apep propped up against the coffee table.

“Oh fuck.” He poked at his arms as if testing the feeling of having real flesh again.

Isis, now his sister again, loomed over him, leaning heavily on the back of the couch, “Bakura you better not ruin my brother’s-”

“Isis I swear to- to Isis that I’m not gonna fuck this up-”

“It’s okay, sis.” Malik helped her steady herself before he went to make sure Bakura was alright. “You only ever saw him when he was trying to scare people. There’s other sides to him.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. “I still don’t like this, she’s gambling with your life as much as his.”

Malik let Bakura steady himself against his shoulder, “I know you worry, sister, but can you trust me with this? We have a lot we need to talk to each other about, but I think it’s going to be okay.”

Isis frowned as she watched Bakura and Malik embracing on the floor, but she finally nodded, “I suppose I’ll trust _her_ if I can’t trust Bakura yet.”


	5. Love

Malik’s clothes didn’t fit him right, but he had a bathrobe to lend him for the time being, and let him take his time with readjusting to owning a physical body at his own pace. Bakura had been flung reeling back into life, and once he had a chance to sit down and start thinking about it, it took him several hours to say anything at all.

“So… I’ve fallen in love with you twice now as different people.”

He had approached Malik in the kitchen as he was preparing vegetables, leaning against a counter uncomfortably, with his arms crossed.

“Twice?” Malik slowed his work, but Bakura fidgeted and nearly got up to leave, so he went back to the methodical chopping.

“I-“ He sighed heavily, “There wasn’t much good in my life. You were good. I didn’t mean to do it, but you let me kiss you once, and it was all I had to hold onto in my last weeks.”

“Oh.” Malik thought for a moment as he worked. Being near to Bakura felt different with his soul repaired. It had been easy to wave away his simple physical urges as useless before, but now he felt a magnetism that pulled from deep within his soul. “My other half thought I was in love with you. He probably knows better than I do with that stuff, I think I put all of it into him.”

“It’s okay if you weren’t.” Bakura hummed and sank into one of the kitchen chairs to watch him. It was an odd statement, but he sounded genuinely content as he made it. “It was what it was.”

When the food was ready Malik sat in the seat closest to Bakura to eat it, and he would lean over to give him reassuring pats on the arm every so often as they ate in silence together. Sometimes Bakura would pause for long moments, gazing out at what Malik was certain were long dead memories, and Malik gave him space to feel them.

After dinner he motioned for Bakura to follow him into the bathroom. “Your hair is way too long.”

Bakura had been pushing it out of the way all evening, and had tripped over it twice while walking around. It was silver and beautiful, but it was real hair now and it tangled and got in the way.

Malik sat him down on the rim of the bathtub and knelt behind him. “How much of this do you want to keep? Ryou’s is down to his hips now, he looks like a rockstar.”

Bakura combed his hands through it idly, “I always kept it above my shoulders when I was alive. I liked Ryou’s hair, though, I sealed a soul in a boardgame to keep it that length once.I don’t know. It’s hard to make decisions right now, I don’t know what would feel right anymore.”

Malik found a wide toothed comb and started the process of untangling the unnaturally long locks. “I’ll cut it like it was when you were in Ryou’s body, and then you can cut more off later if you want, okay?”

Bakura gave a weak nod, and then fell silent as Malik worked.

Malik found that he liked brushing and cutting Bakura’s hair. Bakura showed signs that he was relaxed by the process, and the hair was soft as Malik pulled through it. The wild ozone-phosphorous smell he remembered from years ago clung to the strands, and Malik couldn’t resist pressing his nose against Bakura’s neck and inhaling deeply.

His hair was thick and heavy, and Malik was soon standing in an impressive puddle of silver clippings. He swept it up and decided to devote an entire trash bag to it even though he usually tossed hair clippings outside for the birds. This seemed an overwhelming amount for any typical bird.

Bakura let him braid it when he was done, ignoring him to stare at his own face in the mirror. He traced over a jagged scar under his eye with his thumb, but ultimately said nothing about it.

 

* * *

 

 

As night approached, Malik pulled some blankets from the closet to throw on the couch while Bakura stared idly at a program on the television. When he passed them over, Bakura looked at him and withered. “Do I have to sleep alone?”

Malik, startled to hear him speaking again, joined him on the couch, “I didn’t want to press you. Did you want to sleep in my bed like when you were Apep?”

“I-” Bakura wrapped a blanket around himself and then eased back against Malik’s chest, “I’ve been alone a long time, and I think this morning in your bathroom I-”

His voice broke and he cut himself off, but Malik didn’t want to speak over whatever sort of confession was coming, so he wrapped his arms around Bakura and waited.

Bakura grunted. “Some part of me has always wanted to be comfortable with you.”

“Are you uncomfortable right now?”

“No, it’s not like that. You’re the thing that makes me comfortable. I meant that I’ve always been driven forward towards revenge, but you gave me a soft place to rest once. I had to run away, I couldn’t go back to you because I was afraid that if I did I’d stop moving forward. Comfort would have left my family bound to the Items for the rest of eternity. But this time it’s different, I think it’s okay if I’m nothing but comfortable now.” He let out a long sigh and leaned heavily against Malik.

“Do you want to sleep in my bed, Bakura?”

“I want to do a lot more than just sleep next to you.” He seemed jittery and uneasy, but unwilling to move from their current position.

Malik tried to think. Bakura had been bleeding his own thoughts at him all day, and he owed him something in return. “I know I want to touch you.”

Bakura snorted.

“I got used to knowing you were dead, but I still wished you weren’t. I haven’t trusted anyone but myself in a very long time. I don’t really know if I know how to let myself fall in love. I know I want to spend time with you and be close to you, and if that’s good enough for now I can give you that.”

Bakura rolled over, now straddling Malik. “That’s all it really is, dumbass.”

Malik glared at him, even if the change of pressure on his crotch felt nice. “It should be more than just that, asshole.”

“You want me to stay alive, and live where you live, and you think kissing would be pretty nice?”

Malik felt his face heat up, but he kept his glare steady. “It should definitely be deeper than that.”

“No, that’s stupid modern soulmate bullshit. I move into your apartment, and we fool around and spend time together, and if neither of us leaves or kicks the other one out that means we’re together.”

“That sounds suspiciously easy for something people write poetry about.”

“Poetry is for dumbasses who overthink shit. Your parents were arranged to be married by the tombkeepers, right? They had an official marriage and obligations?”

“Rishid says mother couldn’t stand father, he made her cry all the time. It’s something we talked about when I tried to get my life back together.”

“My parents could have split up whenever they wanted, but they liked being together. I used to make fart noises at them because they were so sappy, mom grabbing my dad’s ass and shit like that.”

“So your childhood was great.”

“No, I was fucking starving and everyone was stressed out all the time. Stop being stupid. Making up a bunch of rules about what being in love is supposed to be is what ruins it. You’re allowed to just want to try, because that’s how it starts when it’s real.”

Bakura pushed himself up so that his hands rested on either of Malik’s shoulders and his nose hovered just above Malik’s. Each time he exhaled, Malik felt it against his lips. It should have been claustrophobic, but Malik wanted him to be there and so it wasn’t. “Malik, would you be happy if you decided I was your special eternal soulmate chosen by the universe and you were deeply romantically in love with me?”

“I guess so.”

“Would you be happy if I touched your dick until you came?”

“Wouldn’t mind, no.”

“So if I touched you now, and in a little while we found a home somewhere like Domino where people wouldn’t bother us for trying, you’d give me your best try?”

Malik nodded, following Bakura’s haphazard logic despite his own reservations. It seemed an irresponsible way to plan a life.

“If you never kiss me, and I never get a chance to make you cum, then neither of us will ever know if we have an eternal bond, because we never started anywhere in the first place.”

Bakura’s breath was warm on Malik’s lips, and he decided he wanted to believe in Bakura’s version of love. There weren’t epic poems about eating together, or sitting on the couch with the TV on, but if he liked doing those things with Bakura and wanted to kiss him, maybe that’s all it had to be after all.

Malik brushed a stray hair behind Bakura’s ear, and then kissed him, only a little better than he’d kissed him as Apep in the bathroom so many hours ago.

Bakura let go of Malik’s shoulders as he kissed him back, and somehow his bathrobe was off of his body and on the floor moments later. Malik pushed him back as he sat up, and Bakura helped him pull his shirt off.

Together they fumbled their way off of the couch, pulled the rest of Malik’s clothes and jewelry off of his body, and climbed into Malik’s bed.

Bakura laughed as he rolled on the sheets. He spread his arms out to stroke over the covers appreciatively, “I’ve never been naked in a modern bed before.”

“Not even in Ryou’s body?” Malik found himself stroking over the muscles in Bakura’s back with the same amount of reverence.

“It was weird to look down and see Ryou’s body. It would have bothered him too much to think about me walking around with his dick out, anyways.” Bakura pushed himself up onto his side so that he could move in close to Malik. His hands ran over the horrid mess that was his new back scars, and Malik couldn’t have been happier to know something sacred and beautiful had been made to look as ugly and violent as it deserved to instead.

“I wanted this so much when I was in the shadows and remembered your face.”

Malik had always imagined that if he ever did lower himself to sex with another person, he’d keep his cool and control everything. He had decided the other guy would just have to be okay with getting it from behind, because anything more intimate had seemed terrifying.

Bakura pressed his tongue deep into Malik’s mouth as he rolled on top of him and straddled him, grinding their erections together. The curtain of his hair fell around them, and Malik was happy to drown in the feel and taste and smell of Bakura, alive again.

It was hot and sweaty and sloppy. Bakura held him with a desperate grip, and Malik stroked his hands across his body and did his best to keep pace. When Bakura shivered and spilled out across his stomach, just the idea of what had happened pushed Malik to finish moments later.

Malik dozed in the warmth flooding his veins. He cracked his eyes open to check the clock and gasped, shaking Bakura back awake in a hurry.

Bakura grumbled in protest, but he smiled and clutched tighter at Malik when he saw it, “Of course your Ka’s a godsdamned phoenix, and if I can fuck it out of you I don’t think you have to worry about whether you’re able to _open up to me_.”

The bird glowed in scarlet flame at the foot of the bed for a moment longer, watching them, before it shuddered and vanished. “I didn’t-“

“Yeah. It’s gonna be weird, being fixed, but you get used to feeling better. I liked being Apep, and I’m going to like being Bakura again even more.” Bakura yawned luxuriously and dropped his head back down to Malik’s chest.

Malik sighed and accepted the explanation readily enough. He could let himself be someone vulnerable enough to let his soul out sometimes, and with Bakura curled up against his chest he thought maybe sleep wouldn’t be such a difficult journey anymore, either.


End file.
